


End of Everything

by LRMatthews



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Future Tense, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LRMatthews/pseuds/LRMatthews
Summary: ...So why don't we go, somewhere only we know?
Relationships: Riku & Sora (Kingdom Hearts), Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	End of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary from (and fic inspired by) Keane's Somewhere Only We Know.
> 
> I think this is the first fic I've ever written in future tense. Also the first fic I've ever written on my phone, in like 3 days (which is speedy for me).

One day he will take a boat. 

He will guide it with sure hands along a route he has taken hundreds, thousands of times. The journey will take several minutes, though still the shortest it's ever been, aided by the honed strength in his arms. The sea will be calm and he'll tilt his face up toward the warmth of the sun and breathe deeply of the salted air, letting his eyes slip shut a few moments. It doesn't matter because he knows this path, could navigate it in his sleep. 

At the tiny dock he will tie the boat off then hop up with an ease learned over many months, new movements his body has ingrained, unconscious thought into action. He will stand on that old wooden dock, creaking gently under his weight, worn with wind and sun and brine, but still holding, ever watchful and patient sentinel awaiting its charges. He will wonder how many feet tread across its boards, if new feet have discovered the delights beyond its gateway, if any familiar feet still visit, still come to play. He will allow himself a wry smile at his musings. Then he will move on. 

The sand will shift and slide under his shoes, as fine and pale as always, and he will need to tap mounds of it out of his shoes later, as always. He won't mind, he never has. The ever-present roll and spray of the ocean will be his only companion, and he won't mind that, either. He will take his time, looking around at all the memories, brushing the hair back out of his face every time the wind tosses strands in his eyes. (He will think that it's probably time for a trim, but it will be more time still until he actually does anything about it.)

Before long he will have crossed the stretch of soft, shifting beach and reached the edge of the island's tiny forest, a verdant swath before the rocky peak of the island's center, separated from the sand by both natural and fashioned barriers of rock and wood. He will look with a smile at the treehouse, the large ship-shaped deck, the bridge to the jutting plateau with its lone paopu tree. Memories will continue to flit through his mind, chased by remembered voices and laughter, the smell of salt and the grit of sand, the awe-inspiring yet comforting force of the water. 

He will walk on, heading for a place he hopes might hold something he is searching for; he hopes he will know it when he sees it because right then he will not be sure what it is. The path will be as he remembers it, shaded by trees and ferns, cut between the rising rock. (It will, however, be a somewhat tighter fit than he remembers.) The air will cool delightfully, sheltered from the sun and breezing between darkened stone. He will need to duck once or twice, squeeze a bit sideways at that curve, and then he will be inside their secret place, where (as far as he has ever known) only he, Sora and Kairi have ventured. It is, was, will ever be, _theirs_. Three pirates, three explorers, three inventors, whatever they wanted to pretend, it most often started here. 

The clusters of childish drawings will draw his attention almost immediately and he will try to remember the last time he saw them, the last time he added to them. None of them have ever been skilled artists and the clumsy representations will bring a smile to his lips as his eyes flick from scribble to scribble. He will try to remember being the person who drew some of these, the one who knew so little about what is beyond their World, happy in ignorance. He will be able to recall the moments, but not recapture the feeling, like viewing them through a veil. 

Somewhat sobered, recollection drawn in a different direction, he will start to turn to view the Door and unexpectedly stumble. The thing over which he nearly trips will turn out to be Sora's shoes, attached (of course) to Sora himself who, apparently, decided to visit their secret spot as well and ended up laying down for a nap. He will start awake in a charmingly befuddled way, cheeks pinking amusingly as his mind catches up and he realizes what happened. But ultimately Sora will be surprised but pleased to see him, inviting him to sit through a wide yawn with a pat on the too-firm ground. (Honestly, how _did_ Sora sleep here?) And he will. 

They will begin to talk, inquires into general health, recent activities, jokes and teasing when the drawings briefly become a focus. There will be chuckles and grins, teeth flashing, cheeks wonderfully stretched, spirits lightened and lifted in a way they haven't been in some time. 

But the tone will shift before long, as it must, because there will be too much weight they each carry, too much unsaid that ought to be. Some will be said now, awkwardly, haltingly, trying to find the right words without knowing they don't exist; half-apologies that will be unnecessary, and reassurances tripping over tongues and landing gracelessly. Some never will be (because they are who they are). It will be enough, though, for truths to be spoken, uncovered and held hesitantly in the light of day, cradled with care yet shared openly. These truths, these revelations, will allow them to see the depth of the connection between them, the light they shine so brightly for each other, nestled protectively within each heart. 

The knowledge laid bare and resonating between them will bring a wash of peace they will both be in desperate need of, a wholeness they will be able to carry with them wherever they go (though they intend to stay together into the future, will do what they can to make their wish reality). A few tears will shed from overwhelmed eyes, spilling over cheeks rounded with joy. Arms will encircle, hands will clutch and grasp, fingers curled into firm warmth. Soft brushes of hair will tickle ears and jaws as their faces slide together. Mouths will meet, brushing softly through those wide smiles, then deepening the contact, euphoria dancing in electric tingles where they touch, echoing in their hearts. 

Someday he will. 

But right now he stands in front of Sora who is on his knees in the dirt, broken with despair and wracked with self-doubt. He stands guard in front of the crumpled figure, against a violent maelstrom of Darkness so vast it cannot escape itself. Nothing can, he knows. But he will stand as long as he can, he will use all his strength to _show_ Sora that he is not worthless. That though strength comes with his friends, his greatest strength is within his own heart. The brilliance of the light within Sora's heart, its infinite capacity for compassion, faithfulness, generosity and just a touch of innocence (though he fears that may lost), all of it that he holds so dear. He plants his feet, raises his Keyblade, stands as long as he can so that Sora will _see_. 

And someday...

He will. 


End file.
